


arranged

by robotboy



Series: war footing [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armor Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to ???, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: A ficlet set fifteen years after bright_elen’s war footing series. Five times Din Djarin and Cassian Andor hung up on each other's holocalls, and one time they were hung up on each other.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Din Djarin
Series: war footing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918522
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	arranged

She hadn’t given him a name. Just a flimsy communicator and a muttered: ‘I’m not your damn secretary.’

There was only one contact listed, with FULCRUM as the title. It was a burner: Cara’s instructions were to get rid of it after six calls. It’d be lucky if he made it to six: the kid had tried to eat the thing twice already. When he finally had enough intel to be worth a drop, he had to wipe spit off the buttons before initiating the call.

‘This is Dune’s informant,’ he said, before they cut the line at an unfamiliar voice. ’She gave me this contact.’

No response, but the line was crisp enough that Din could hear the whirring of a data spike. He kept the holocam off: so did Fulcrum.

‘You’re cleared,’ came the reply. ‘Line’s secure.’

The accent was familiar, but not enough that he could place why. Atrivian, maybe.

‘Four cruisers of ex-Imperials taking the pilgrimage hyperlane in the last week,’ he reported. ‘It looks like they’re just moving along the Spine, but they keep breaking trailwards.’

‘The old Jedha pilgrimage?’ Fulcrum repeated. ‘Why?’

‘Beats me,’ Din sighed. A hiss of static suggested Fulcrum was doing the same. ‘It was two ships the week before. Whatever it is, they’re doing more of it.’

‘Can you confirm they’re Imperial?’ Fulcrum asked.

‘Ion hybrid engines,’ Din said. ‘Lorta’s refuelling port was rotten with troopers.’

‘Are you out there long?’

That voice. Definitely from Fest, but there was something else about him.

‘I’m freelance,’ Din said. ‘Depends on the next job.’

‘We can pay.’

Din looked at the kid, who blinked back as if he understood. He wasn’t angling for a gig, but he wouldn’t say no.

‘Alright,’ Din agreed. ‘I can spare a week.’

‘Those bastards move an inch, I want to know,’ Fulcrum said. He added: _‘Then_ you can rip their heads off and see if they’ve got any spines.’

Din snorted. It meant he almost didn’t catch a snide reply at the other end of the line. The discomfort of laughing at a joke not meant for him turned quickly into apprehension. The other voice was synthetic, with the clipped tone he knew too well.

Din shut off the call, hailing Cara immediately.

‘Fulcrum’s a spy,’ he told her, by way of greeting.

‘Well, yeah,’ Cara’s hologram frowned on his dashboard. ‘That’s why I gave him your details.’

‘An _Imperial_ spy,’ Din clarified. ‘Had a KX droid with him.’

The kid waved his hand at Cara’s face, and she crinkled her nose at him.

To Din, she said: ‘Nah, it’s reprogrammed. He’s had it for years—never seen him without it.’

Din grunted in disapproval.

‘The thing’s a real piece of work,’ Cara told him. ‘Used to terrorise new recruits on the base.’

Din gritted his teeth. ‘You trust it.’

‘You _still_ on that droid thing?’ Cara muttered.

‘An Imperial security droid?’ Din said. ‘You can see why I might be.’

‘So don’t give him intel if it means that much to you,’ Cara grumbled. ‘Nobody’s forcing you.’

She rolled her eyes, but Din knew: both of them were worried enough about the rising Order to collaborate with Rebellion screws. This had nothing to do with personal issues.

That’s what Din thought, at the time.

*

He meant to give it a week, leaving the call as long as possible. But on the fifth night of nudging the Razor Crest into the lee of Lorta’s moon, he grabbed the comm again.

‘What is it?’ Fulcrum answered quickly.

‘Take a look.’

Din set the comm on the dash, activating the holocam. A colossal mining ship almost eclipsed the planet, hulking just outside its atmosphere. Upsilon shuttles—the model the new Order favoured—zipped in and out of it.

‘Karabast. A mining ship?’

‘Yeah,’ Din confirmed. ‘Headed the same way as the others.’

He turned the holocam back toward himself. There was silence on the other end of the line.

‘What do I call you?’ Fulcrum asked. There was a tremor in his voice: it was so subtle Din wouldn’t have picked it if his ears weren’t pricked for how he knew the man from Fest.

‘Mando,’ he answered. ‘Dune didn’t say that?’

‘She did, I just…’ Fulcrum exhaled. ‘This is good. Send your details and we can wire a transfer.’

Din sent through the link to one of his accounts.

‘You get that?’ Fulcrum murmured, and the KX made a noise of assent. The hair on the back of Din’s neck prickled. But the account balance on his datapad bounced up.

‘Have you ever been to Nal Koska?’ the KX suddenly asked.

There was a scuffling sound on the end of the line, followed by a hushed argument. Din barely listened: _Nal Koska_ rattled around in his brain too loudly.

Not many men had bested Din in a fight, let alone ambushed him with a security droid and choked him unconscious in the middle of foreplay. It wasn’t easy to forget.

Din shut off the comm and tossed it in a compartment. It had to be a coincidence.

Sunlight spilled across his dash as the mining ship drifted further trailwards. Nobody could afford coincidences, not now.

*

Maybe it happened because he was exhausted. He’d been stalking a target who’d run him halfway around the galaxy, from Coruscant to the New Territories. Without the kid on board, the Razor Crest felt uncannily quiet. It wasn’t as if the kid made much noise, and this wasn’t a safe job for Din to take him on. So when the comm he’d shoved in a storage compartment started beeping, it was the first interesting thing to happen in days.

Din sighed, taking it out and putting it on the bench next to the bed. He didn’t answer, and Fulcrum didn’t leave a message. The missed call light blinked.

The communicator beeped again. Din considered ejecting it out the airlock. He let it ring through. It was half an hour before the third hail. Din sighed. He put on his helmet and hit the button.

‘What?’ he snapped.

‘Our friend said you’re out in the New Territories,’ Fulcrum answered.

Din rolled his lower lip between his teeth in frustration. Now he’d placed that voice, he couldn’t hold back the memory of their night-and-a-half together.

‘I’m working,’ he said.

‘We’ll double what they’re paying you,’ Fulcrum said.

Din clicked his tongue. This wild bantha chase was rapidly becoming unprofitable, but he’d defaulted on too many Guild contracts. Still: if the target stayed on Ord Mantell as long as Din expected her to, a side job might make up his losses.

‘What do you need?’

‘Reconnaissance,’ Fulcrum told him. ‘Something’s going on in the 7G sector.’

‘There’s nothing in the 7G sector,’ Din muttered.

‘There is now,’ Fulcrum sighed. ‘Mando, this is important.’

The holo flickered to life, and there was that face. Still pretty, with long eyelashes and a twitchy nose. He’d barely aged in fifteen years, at least in any detail the holocam could pick up.

‘Please,’ Fulcrum’s brow was tight with desperation.

‘You expect me to trust you?’ Din snarled.

‘We paid you last time, didn’t we?’ Fulcrum looked away, then back at the holocam. ‘That night on Val Koska… it was a mistake. _My_ mistake.’

‘Fulcrum—‘

‘Cassian,’ he interrupted. ‘My name is Cassian.’

His expression suggested that all kinds of protocols had just been broken with that statement.

‘Fine,’ Din muttered. ‘You want me to check out 7G, _Cassian?’_

‘As soon as you can,’ Cassian nodded. _‘Don’t_ get caught.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Din growled. ‘I’m not as reckless as I used to be.’

He terminated the call, and Cassian’s face flickered out of existence.

*

There was no way a holocall, with Din in full armour, would betray anything about how he felt. No way for Cassian to know Din’s face was burning under the helmet.

‘Whole sector’s full of debris,’ he reported. ‘Like a mining dump.’

‘They’re digging for something?’ Cassian asked.

Din distracted himself from the sharp lines of Cassian’s cheekbones by watching his account balance triple. ‘Looks like it. They must’ve ripped right through a crust. Trees, ore, everything.’

‘Okay,’ Cassian smoothed his moustache with his knuckles, an unconscious gesture. ‘This is useful. Thank you.’

‘Sure,’ Din muttered, punching in the coordinates for the twenty hours of jumps it would take to get back to Ord Mantell.

‘Listen…’ Cassian’s jaw was tense, eyes flickering around his space like he didn’t want to be overheard. ‘I need to apologise.’

‘Don’t,’ Din muttered, but he didn’t hang up. That gave Cassian enough confidence to continue.

‘I didn’t want things to end like that.’

Din grunted.

‘I couldn’t let you hurt K-2,’ Cassian sighed roughly. ‘I wish I’d… I don’t know. Found you, had time to explain it.’

‘Looks like you have.’

A bitter laugh. ‘Okay, then yeah. I went in thinking we’d have as good a time as the first time.’

Din chewed the inside of his lip. He’d hardly let himself remember the first time, with how thoroughly Cassian ruined the last. Part of what made the whole sting was that he was right. It had been good. And Din couldn’t think of how tight his lover had been, how he’d cursed and writhed and keened as Din fucked him, without the harsh recollection of what followed.

‘I wanted you to clamp me to the wall and take me standing,’ Cassian spoke all in one breath.

The confession made Din’s dick twitch. It seemed to have no problems with forgiveness.

‘I didn’t get my mouth on you,’ Cassian murmured. ‘I hoped you’d want me to.’

‘Before you choked me,’ Din reminded him.

Cassian hissed in frustration. ‘Look. I have enough burned bridges in my life, and I was lucky enough to run into you twice. Three times? That’s some Force shit at work.’

Din scowled. Sooner or later, he was going to have to acknowledge the rumours about the Rebellion and the Force. Until then, the kid could sleep soundly with his babysitters.

‘So what, the Force told you to tell me you’re sorry?’

‘I screwed you,’ Cassian said. ‘And not the way I planned to.’

Din tilted his head, and Cassian’s lashes flickered. So he still had a thing for the armour.

Mandalorians didn’t take a lot of lovers. Even if a partner was okay with the helmet staying on, it was too risky. That pretty face had made him reckless, and the problem was, it was still just as pretty.

Cassian had never taken the helmet off. Din had been too angry to be relieved when he’d regained consciousness, but now? Now, he had twenty hours to kill.

‘What did you have planned?’ he laid it thick with sarcasm. An out, if Cassian took it.

Cassian swallowed. Din smirked at how it made his throat bob. ’I wanted…’

There was a hiss like a door opening. Cassian’s holo blinked off, and the call ended. Din groaned, his hands balling into fists.

He’d have to pass the time his own way.

*

He put it off. He told himself other options would come up, the kid might grow out of it, anything. But the only other rumours of sorcerers in the galaxy came from the same Order he’d been working with Cassian to undermine. That left limited options, and the former Rebellion was far from the worst.

He checked the kid was safely asleep, and hailed Cassian from the cockpit.

_‘What?’_

Cassian was breathless. He kept his holocam off.

‘Is it true that there are Jedi in your organisation?’ Din asked.

‘Is this urgent?’ Cassian’s question was punctuated with a gasp.

Din thought—surely not. Not when he’d answered the call. Then again, every other time Din had hailed him, it _had_ been important.

‘Is this a bad time?’ Din peered at the comm.

Cassian was a spy: he was probably in the middle of a job. Only Din knew what Cassian sounded like when he was being fucked silly. He sounded exactly like this.

‘Yeah, it—‘ Cassian actually _whimpered._ ‘Yeah. Is the answer to your question. Two of them.’

‘Okay,’ Din said.

_‘Okay?’_ Cassian huffed in surprise. ‘You get six calls and that’s… that’s how you spend one?’

‘Okay,’ Din repeated, unable to keep himself from grinning. ‘What else do you want to talk about?’

Cassian broke into a string of cursing. If he was on a job, it wasn’t going very well.

‘What do you want with the Jedi?’ he croaked.

‘I have something they might be interested in,’ Din said. It was the truth, approximately.

‘That’s it?’

There was a sharp noise, a lot like a slap. Cassian cleared his throat.

‘I can pass the intel along.’

He was trying so hard to sound serious. Din rolled his eyes. He was half-hard under the armour, but Cassian didn’t know that.

‘This is sensitive,’ Din told him. ‘You could put me through to them directly, if you’re not _busy.’_

Cassian hung up on him.

*

‘Wait.’

Din should have stopped. Cassian had given him the details: a secure checkpoint where Din and the kid would be escorted to the base of Don’t-Call-It-The-Rebellion. A mention of Cassian’s name, and some trusted contacts would see Din to the right people. He had everything he needed.

Only: it was the last call, a tidy end to their arrangement. Only Din _still_ couldn’t shake the way Cassian got under his skin. Only Cassian had the holocam on this time, and his eyes were wide and dark and pleading.

Din tilted his helmet: _go on._

‘What happened between us…’ Cassian swallowed. ‘I wanted more.’

The past tense: he _had wanted._ That wasn’t true: it was written plain on Cassian’s face.

‘I thought it was all water under the bridge,’ Din shrugged. He ran his thumb over his inseam, out of view of the holocam.

‘Not to me,’ Cassian admitted. ‘And not to you either, I think.’

He was a spy. They had to be good at reading people, even people in armour. Din conceded that it was true with a quirk of his shoulder.

‘So, if this is our last call…’ Cassian exhaled, nostrils flaring. ‘I want…’

He shook his head.

‘What did you want, Cassian?’

It was easy to tease him. Din shifted, letting the buckles clink audibly as he unfastened his belt. He rolled his neck, almost a hint of skin under his cowl, and when he looked back, Cassian’s jaw was clenched.

‘I want to know what you would have done,’ Cassian confessed.

A laugh rumbled out of Din. The bass of it made Cassian shiver.

‘Lock your door,’ Din gave him a short nod. ‘Better than you did last time.’

Cassian disappeared from the holo. There was the snap of a lock, and when Cassian returned, the tension was clear in his shoulders.

‘Sit back,’ Din crooned. ‘Let me see the rest of you.’

Cassian’s lips parted in surprise, but he obeyed. Din could smile at it without giving anything away. Cassian was in a ship’s berth, his back against the wall. He sat with his thighs spread.

‘Good,’ Din sighed. Cassian practically glowed with the praise. ‘You can show me more than that.’

Cassian gave him a wry look, but he unfastened his shirt.

‘I’d have been the one doing that,’ Din told him. ‘If you hadn’t been an idiot.’

Cassian snorted. ‘You going to keep rubbing it in?’

‘You going to grovel?’

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you like?’

‘No,’ Din admitted. He let the moment hang in the air between them. ‘No, I’d like you to _beg.’_

‘Fuck,’ Cassian muttered. He ground the heel of his hand against his crotch. It looked instinctive, but no spy would make such a sloppy gesture: this was a performance for Din’s benefit.

Din could put on a show of his own. His holocam revealed only head and shoulders. He telegraphed the slow, languorous process of sliding his cock out of his pants. Cassian’s brow pinched in frustration.

He started slow, only enough to warm himself up.

‘You know what you missed?’ he murmured. His shoulder moved more than he would if he were doing this alone: it was Cassian’s only reference for what was happening. ‘Once I get you clamped to the wall?’

As subtly as Cassian had used the past tense, Din slipped their conversation into the present. It was worth it for the way Cassian’s hips tilted in interest.

‘I strip you down,’ Din continued. ‘Get a good look at you, strung up for me like fresh meat.’

It was a gamble, and one that paid off: Cassian palmed his crotch, the holo detailed enough to reveal the bulge in his pants.

‘Go on, then,’ Din nodded. ‘Show me.’

Cassian finished unfastening his shirt first, leaning forward to let it slip off his shoulders. Din’s eyes raked over the sinuous limbs, the history of scars, the chest hair thicker than he remembered.

Din hummed appreciatively: Cassian preened. His fingers trailed from the tender skin of his neck to his chest, stopping to tweak a nipple.

‘I’d pinch harder,’ Din said, and Cassian did. His nostrils twitched with a sharp inhalation, lips pressed tightly together with need. He circled his thumb to soothe the sting, and Din watched how the nub raised in the wake of Cassian’s touch. The other nipple got the same treatment, but sharper, and longer: Cassian made himself hiss.

‘Gloves,’ he mumbled, his heel pushing restlessly against the mattress. ‘You keep your gloves on.’

Din purred through a laugh. ‘I thought you were going to beg.’

‘Please,’ Cassian’s voice was tight. ‘Wear the gloves, please.’

Din’s left hand was still gloved, so he brought it into shot by adjusting his cowl. It was getting warmer, anyway, the more he stroked himself. Cassian noticed, and the corner of his mouth was hooked by a smile. Din moaned, louder than he would if he were alone, but never so loud as to wake the kid below decks.

Cassian drove his palm down his abdomen, stopping below his navel. His fingers were splayed, tense with need, but he looked into the holocam.

‘Let me…’ he swallowed thickly. ‘Let me touch myself?’

Din hadn’t meant to withhold permission, but Cassian couldn’t read his surprise. He played along, tilting his head in consideration and watching the smallest spasm of Cassian’s knuckles as he waited.

‘Easy, now,’ he murmured, and Cassian’s dick visibly throbbed through his pants. ‘Good. There you go, nice and slow.’

There was a flush darkening Cassian’s cheeks as he popped the buttons of his pants, lifting his hips from the mattress to slide out of them. His cock bounced, curved and heavy, as he settled back with his thighs spread. Din savoured it for a moment, pumping his own cock. The pause was long enough that Cassian’s fingers were digging into his thigh, a chain of shadowy indentations that betrayed his desperation.

‘You won’t touch yourself until I let you?’ Din let the amusement show in his voice. Cassian’s head shook, just a fraction: the admission of ceding power still hurt him, even as his entire body was taut with how badly he desired it.

‘Maybe I don’t let you, right away,’ Din spoke over Cassian’s hiss of frustration. ‘If you’re cuffed up, I’d get to see that whole arch of your back. You know how pretty you looked on all fours?’

Cassian’s eyes shut, and he pouted through a nod.

‘Why don’t you get on your knees for me now?’ Din asked.

He almost thought Cassian would say no: a change in position, not being able to see Din, when he was so hard it looked painful. But he shivered, looking up at the ceiling like it would give him the willpower required, and swung his leg around. He sat on his heels, spine arched as promised, hands resting on his thighs. His hair fell in his eyes as he cast a glance over his shoulder

Din growled: the muscle and contours of Cassian’s back were as sleek as he remembered. He wished he could run a finger down that spine—ungloved, if he had his way—and feel the gooseflesh left in its wake.

‘I’d start at the nape of your neck,’ he said. ‘Just light enough to make you shiver, feel how you move when I touch you.’

Cassian did move, shoulders squaring as his hips rolled, just the way he would if Din were touching him.

‘I’d get a nice handful of your ass, I think,’ Din mused. Cassian, without further prompting, gripped tight on the flesh, acting out the motion. Din groaned. ‘That’s it.’

Cassian’s thighs were straining. He couldn’t conceal the way he leaned into his own hold. A bead of sweat rolled into the dip of his lower back, and he couldn’t stop himself from shivering as his own fingertip brushed his tailbone.

‘You like that spot,’ Din realised. ‘Touch it again.’

Cassian slipped another finger over the cleft of his ass, tickling. It drew a whimper from his parted lips. Din had to give his cock a firm squeeze to keep from getting ahead of himself.

‘How long could I tease you?’ Din smiled. ‘How long can I make you tease yourself?’

Cassian huffed. ‘Not forever.’

‘Maybe just the tip of your finger, then,’ Din decided. Cassian’s jaw dropped at the audacity of it. But he reached down, ass jutting out wonderfully as he slid his middle finger inside. Din had to guess from the way Cassian’s knuckles flexed, and the pitch of his gasp, that he’d nudged the tip inside himself.

‘Just like that,’ Din purred. There was no theatricality to it now. His cock was hard, and he swiped his thumb through the gathering slick at the tip, working himself over. ’Shame my fingers are thicker than yours.’

Cassian groaned. There was a shadow in his cheek from how hard he clenched his jaw. _‘Please.’_

Din snorted. ‘If I wanted you to fuck yourself, I’d have told you to go fuck yourself.’

Cassian shot a withering look over his shoulder. He didn’t pull out, though.

‘No, I’d have taken such good care of you,’ Din promised. ‘I’d spend so long getting you all open—and _wet—_ and _ready—‘_

Cassian punctuated each word with a thrust of his finger.

‘But…’ Din sighed wistfully. It took more effort than he’d admit to keep his voice level. ‘I’m not there. So you’d better stop.’

Cassian cursed profusely. His shoulders loosened as he followed the order, dropping his head back in disappointment.

Din drank in the sight, stroking himself as the tension built in Cassian again.

Cassian spoke so quietly the comms almost didn’t pick it up. ‘Tell me what to do now.’

Din shuddered. He didn’t need to see the way Cassian’s lower lip caught between his teeth, bitten hard like he could draw the words back into his mouth, to know how much an admission like that cost.

‘Look at me,’ he told Cassian. ‘Get comfortable.’

Easy orders, a gesture that Din could be trusted with that power. While Cassian settled back against the bunk, Din adjusted his holocam. It revealed his chest, rising and falling. He was slouched in the seat, hips rolling as he thrust into his fist. Cassian’s eyes darted over the image, heavy-lidded and hungry.

‘You look good,’ Din told him, and it was true. Cassian’s chest fluttered with shallow breaths, sweat prickling on slender shoulders. His nipples were still hard and darkened, and his cock curved toward his belly. ‘So _eager.’_

A laugh escaped from Cassian, and he combed a frustrated hand through his hair. A tuft of it fell immediately into his face.

‘You wish I could pull it?’ Din guessed.

Cassian’s hand tightened. He made himself whine.

‘Was it _you_ who wanted to get choked?’ Din guessed.

Cassian didn’t answer, just tilted his chin up by pulling harder on his hair. Din could admire his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

‘Listen to me,’ Din let steel slide into his voice, and Cassian’s eyes snapped open. Even through the holocall, even through the visor, he could meet Din’s gaze. ‘I want you to touch yourself.’

Cassian wasted no time. His lashes fluttered as he finally got a hand on his cock, stroking it firmly. He had a flick to his wrist, over-and-under: Din mimicked it curiously and the feeling made him growl.

‘You’re gonna come all over yourself,’ Din crooned. ‘And I’m gonna watch.’

Cassian whimpered, kicking the mattress. He braced a foot on the surface to drive his hips up, fucking his fist without hesitation.

Din was close, but Cassian was closer. He took his hand away for a moment, and before Din could ask why, he dragged his tongue across his palm. Din wished, desperately, that he could see how pink it was.

‘Please,’ Cassian’s voice hitched. His eyes were glistening, face contorted with need. _‘Please.’_

‘You want my permission?’ Din asked.

Cassian’s nose scrunched and he nodded, head thumping the wall of his bunk. His hips moved like pistons, hand quick and dextrous as he brought himself to the edge.

‘You’ve been so good,’ Din gasped. It was getting harder to muster the words, string them together like he was in control. His cock pulsed, right on the brink. ‘You can come.’

Cassian let out a whine, curling in on himself. He was relentless, his hand not slowing as he brought himself through it, cock painting streaks of come across his chest and abdomen. Just like he’d promised.

Din was quick to follow, a long and aching growl as molten pleasure poured through him. Cassian watched, wide-eyed and quivering as he took in as much as he could see, all that he could hear. There were tears clinging to his lashes: he hadn’t cried, that first time. This was different. Din knew it was different, but in the burning-bright haze of coming, he couldn’t have said how. Something about the way Cassian looked at him, like they were there in the bunk together.

‘I’d kiss you.’

Din didn’t know why he said it. He could blame the blissful stupidity that chased an orgasm, or the fact that this was only a game. But the way Cassian’s lips parted as he swiped his fingers across them, plush from how much he’d bitten them and dragging to show a hint of teeth, it wasn’t a game at all.

Din shut his eyes until he could think clearly. He rolled his neck, taking an unsteady breath before tucking himself away. It was a bitch of a mess: he’d deal with it.

‘Thank you,’ Cassian murmured. He was still naked, loose-limbed as he rested his elbows on his knees. His hair had a slight curl to it, and his mouth had a slighter smile.

‘Yeah,’ Din agreed. ‘Hell of a last call.’

Cassian stretched, his eyes crinkling as he made a noise that might almost be called a yawn.

‘So,’ he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’ll see you at the base.’

‘You’ll _what?’_

Every call they’d shared, Cassian was on a ship somewhere. He’d never said anything about being on the base.

‘You’ll probably get there before me,’ Cassian shrugged, as if this was something they’d actually discussed.

‘You’re going to be at the Rebel base,’ Din’s voice cracked.

‘I told you not to call it that,’ Cassian raised his eyebrows. ‘We’re the Resistance now.’

Din caught Cassian smiling before he hung up the call.


End file.
